


Lucky Number

by DeengoBlue



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Fertility Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeengoBlue/pseuds/DeengoBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes her two weeks (16 days) to finally find the words (courage) to ask him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Number

**Author's Note:**

> Follows season 2 ep “Who’s Your Daddy?”  
> Originally written back in 2006.

It takes her two weeks (16 days) to finally find the words (courage) to ask him. It takes him two seconds to say yes. (He never does actually say the words--neither does she).

They try it the old-fashioned way--He'll be damned if he's not going to get something out of this as well (That's what he tells her. That's what she believes). Twice. Three times. Four. Six. Ten. Twelve.

It will take. It has to take.

He offers to go through her files again (He doesn't look at her as he says this).

It will take. It has to take.

Donor #910908-L7 has potential.

No (House tracked him down--don't ask her how--he sounds like Elmer Fudd on helium, looks like him, too). Biochemical engineer be damned.

Thirteen is not her lucky number. Neither is fourteen. Or twenty-seven.

Now it's not fun, not even for him. Angry, desperate sex is not as enjoyable as it sounds.

Seven months later she's still not pregnant. (Don't worry.) She has known women who have tried for years before successively breeding a child (someone to go home to at the end of the day). She doesn't have years. She doesn't have the time. (This is eating into her career. This is eating into her life. This is eating her.)

Seventeen months later (500 long days, 500 late nights, 2 donors) Dr. Lisa Cuddy has tried everything. Lisa Cuddy has tried. Lisa Cuddy is tired.

She's packing up. She's going home.

She writes a memo for tomorrow, turns of the computer, then the lights. She locks her office. She tells a janitor goodnight as she passes.

She tries not to think on the drive home. It's like trying not to breathe.

Her porch light is on when she pulls into the driveway (It turns on automatically at dusk). And she sees the TV is on when she opens the front door (This too seems to come on automatically these days).

"I TIVOed the game," he says, and pats the sofa with a spare hand.

She hangs up her coat and toes off her shoes. When she sits down his arm (automatically) snakes around her shoulders.

"Don't tell me who won."

"Spoilsport."

Seventeen months later and Lisa Cuddy has someone to come home to (At last).

 

 

END.


End file.
